Leave No Man Behind
by Yesm777
Summary: Adam opts to go it alone on an op, but things quickly go sour. Alone, he must fight through the pain while the team comes up with a plan of their own. Adam whump.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:** Heya. To start, know that I'm not a medical professional, nor do I have military experience. So I apologize if some of the details aren't quite right. Also, there are some references to different episodes, so minor spoilers abound! There will also be some pretty rough whumping later on, so I'm gonna put a **trigger warning for violence** on this story just in case._

 _Also, was anyone else shouting and screaming during the season finale? I sure was. I watched it live to contribute whatever support I could for a show renewal, and let me say...there was a lot of yelling in my house. A lot of "NOOOOO" and "YAAAASSSSS." Those last ten minutes...sheesh._

 _Anyway, enough talking from me. I hope you enjoy this story! As usual, I'd love a review if you have the time._

 **CHAPTER 1**

"Remind me again of what we're after?"

Adam slowly paced the hallway of their current refuge, his boots softly scraping the gritty flooring. The building had seen better days. It stood forgotten in the wide emptiness of dirt and brush, slowly succumbing to the gentle rot of time.

But it was safe and out of the way, and that's all the team needed it to be.

 _"A laptop,"_ Patricia answered curtly. Adam could hear the flutter of paper in the background.

He inhaled deeply, picking up the scent of rust and stagnant dirt. "And you're sure it's here. In the middle of nowhere."

 _"Very sure. And like I said before, it's imperative your team retrieves it as soon as possible. The Russians can't know what's on that laptop. As far as we know, they haven't even turned it on, so it's possible they think it's just another scrap of equipment."_

A soft breeze whistled through cracks in the walls, whispering in the silence. Adam looked out of the window. It would be night soon—the perfect cover for a simple retrieval.

The laptop was currently kept in a what they suspected was a low-security facility, a place that was supposed to be hidden from eyes like Adam's. Like Patricia's. It was a small, hidden pocket for Russian intelligence, buried in an unassuming warehouse, away from cities. Away from civilization.

Honestly, if Adam hadn't been told to look there, he would've passed by it without a second thought.

"Understood," he muttered. "We'll set out after sundown. I'll let you know as soon as we're ready."

 _"Got a plan already?"_

He folded his arms, blue eyes reflecting the darkening purple outside. Patricia knew what he was thinking. She always knew.

"Since we don't know enough about the place, I'll go in solo to retrieve the laptop. It'll be easier to get past any obstacles on my own. If everything goes right, I can get in and out without the Russians knowing. And if I can't retrieve it on my own, I can at least scout out the security situation for a second attempt."

Several seconds ticked by in silence. He could hear Patricia's breathing on the other end, slow and even.

 _"You do what you think is best. I trust your judgment."_

He could hear the unspoken worry in her voice but knew she wouldn't say anything.

Adam smirked. At least it's the thought that counts.

The two said their goodbyes as Adam watched the last of the daylight slip from the sky. Time to talk to the team. And they weren't going to like this one bit.

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"Top, you can't be serious," Jaz pressed, putting her hands on her hips in exasperation. "You can't go in alone. We don't even know how secure the place is yet."

"Exactly. I can't risk the whole team if we don't know what to expect," Adam replied calmly, adjusting his body cam.

Preach frowned, looping his thumbs under the straps of his chest plate. "The situation in China was already cutting it close. And to be honest, this seems even more dangerous. At least we were in open wood there. Here, none of us will have eyes on you." He gestured toward the blueprints laid out on the table. "You'll be in there on your own."

There was a tense anxiousness in the air, rife with protective anger. That was how the team was. Except for Preach, worry didn't often come soft and gentle. It came heated and rough.

Adam understood. He really did. But he wouldn't be easily swayed. "Look, if I think it'll be more than I can handle, I'll back out, and we'll come up with a new plan. But for now, I think we should stick with this plan."

Preach pursed his lips but fell silent.

"Then let me go instead," Jaz volunteered, taking a small step forward. "I can get in there and out without them knowing."

Adam stared at her for a long time. For a moment, all he could see was her face in the back of that Mercedes G-Wagen. The steely expression. Those hard eyes full of terror.

The recognition that Adam had tried to save her from her capture.

And failed.

"No, out of the question," he answered. The bruises. The blood. He couldn't shake those images away. He couldn't fail one of his team members like that again. Especially Jaz.

They could all hear the pain and fear in Adam's voice, hidden under strong tones of authority and resolve. They knew where it came from but chose not to acknowledge it.

Jaz looked at a water stain on the floor.

The team leader breathed deeply, glancing between each of them. "If we do this, I'll be the one to go in. Alone. But we can't do this unless you all agree to it. It has be a unanimous decision."

Quiet fell over the team, touched only by an underlying nervousness. They were each trying to move away from their emotions, thinking objectively. But it was easier said than done, and it took a minute to push that uneasy feeling to the back of their minds. McG closed his eyes. Jaz rolled her head back to peer at the ceiling.

"So?" Adam prodded, his arms folded. After a beat of silence, heads reluctantly nodded, consenting uncertainly.

The team leader gave a firm dip of his head. "Great. Then let's move out."

Without another word, the team stepped outside, heading toward an old, beat up pickup truck as they all turned their comms and body cams on.

"Command, we're heading to the location now," Adam reported.

He stepped into the passenger seat while Amir voluntarily took the driver's side. The rest of the team climbed into the truck bed, lips pursed and expressions pinched.

Something didn't feel right about this plan. They could feel it.

Amir turned the ignition, taking quick stock of his surroundings before he set off into the pitch black of the empty terrain. His hands gripped the wheel tightly. He risked a glance at Adam, quickly returning his gaze to the front.

With a sigh, Adam switched off his comm, turning to Amir. "If you have something to say, Amir, say it."

Amir quickly turned off his own comm, opening his mouth to speak. He closed it again, taking a minute to form his thoughts. "I'd like to come with you."

Adam was already shaking his head before Amir even finished. "No. Not gonna happen." After Jaz, he couldn't bring himself to risk any of them. Not like this.

"Top, someone should have your back in there. I get why you'd rather go it alone. But a truck in China is one thing. A most likely guarded facility is another."

With a huff, Adam closed his eyes. It seemed to always come back to that op in China. Just like how his thoughts always fell to the assassination in Tehran.

He looked at Amir. "I appreciate the concern, Amir. It's nice to know you have my back when I need it, but I'd rather have you outside with the team."

The dark-haired man clenched his jaw, staring out the windshield. "Okay, Top."

Adam watched him for a while longer, catching the small signs of frustration. Amir was clearly the angriest of them all, driven by an admirable intensity. He had such strong feelings that everything seemed to fall on irritation. Sadness, worry, fear, anxiousness…For Amir, it all resulted in anger.

In Adam's opinion, it made Amir better at his job. The anger pushed him. Dared him to think smarter and be better.

But for moments like now, when nothing could be done, that anger must've been excruciating.

Amir turned on his comm, keeping his eyes stubbornly on the road. Adam was hesitant to leave things as it was, but it was clear Amir wanted to focus on something else.

The team leader turned on his comm, pursing his lips.

"Command, we're close to the checkpoint."

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The team hiked through the tall grass, careful to stay quiet and hidden. They'd left the truck a couple miles back, resuming their trip on foot in favor of a silent approach. Adam could still sense an unspoken tension hovering over the team as they moved. It wasn't all that unusual. With every risk he took, that same tension was there. But somehow, this was heavier. Darker.

He wondered if the team had sensed the difference too.

Still, he knew the team's focus was on the mission at hand. They didn't have room for anything else. Distraction resulted in costly mistakes. They all knew that.

"Here's good," Adam mumbled, crouching down in the brush as they all looked down at the old industrial building. Somewhere in there was a laptop with vital information, and they wouldn't leave here without it. "Stick to the plan. I'll go through the southeast door, which will be covered by Jaz. Preach will cover the north side, Amir the east, and McG the west. Without any trouble, I'll come back out of the southeast door."

Everyone nodded, their eyes sharp.

"Good luck, Top," Preach said quietly, adjusting his rifle in his hands.

Adam smiled and dropped a soft clap onto the older man's shoulder. "I'll see you all in a bit."

He turned away to pick his way through the brush, knowing his team was already moving to take their positions.

 _"Be careful, Dalton,"_ Patricia muttered in his ear.

He sunk into the shadows of the property, moving deftly through the darkness as he approached the door. "You know me, director. Always careful."

 _"Mm-hm."_

Measuring his breathing, Adam crouched behind the dumpster, sweeping the area for any cameras. Ultimately, they'd picked this door for the lack of camera coverage, but it didn't hurt to keep an eye out for missed danger.

Satisfied, he made his way to the door, pulling out a few tools to pick the lock. Adam hoped the dim light on this side of the building was enough to cover him for now, and after a quick look over his shoulder, he started on the simple lock.

There was a small click, and Adam slowly twisted the knob before slipping inside. He silently closed the door behind him, looking around as he stuffed the tools in his pocket.

"So far, so good," he whispered, careful to stay quiet. There were a few huffs over the comms, and he couldn't tell if they were out of concern or relief.

Looking around warily, Adam ventured forward, picturing the blueprints in his head. It was dark on this side of the building, absent of any signs of life.

 _"Take the corridor to the left,"_ Noah advised. _"The package hasn't moved."_

Adam traveled noiselessly to the corridor, making his way down with a few glances over his shoulder. Without a word, he followed Noah's directions, treading lightly as he slipped through shadowy hallways and storage areas.

Just as he was about to take another left, he stopped, hearing a shuffle ahead.

He waited, listening intently. There was another shuffle, and Adam pressed himself against the wall and sidled toward the corner. Noah had stopped talking, noticing the change in Adam's movement.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Adam peered around the corner. An armed guard sat on an old set of steps, leaning back with his rifle resting vertically against his shoulder. Adam pulled back from the corner, eyes glancing down where he'd come from. There was a way around the area, but it was a little lengthier than their original plan.

It was worth a try.

He tread carefully back down the hall, taking a right down another path. "Armed guard. Went another route," he whispered, cautiously rounding another corner.

Laughter floated down a connected corridor, forcing Adam to pause. He swiftly looked for cover, his breath suddenly loud in his ears. His eyes fell on a dark office nearby, and he lunged for it to hide away from the potential threat.

Adam twisted the knob. Unlocked. Relieved, he pushed his way in, closing the door noiselessly behind him. Voices came into the hallway as Adam crouched down below the door's window, looking up through the glass.

Two men passed by, chatting amicably. They had a casual grip on their rifles and were wholly unaware of the nearby threat. The two of them moved further down the hall, turning around the corner and out of sight.

Eager to move away from danger, Adam slid out of the office and hastily moved onward, more cautious than before.

Noah's voice hummed in his ear. _"You're getting close. Take a right."_

Adam complied, walking lightly over polished concrete. There was a steady buzz in his bones, warning him of danger. He could feel his heart thrumming against his chest. He felt more uneasy than usual. But he was too far to turn back now, and he couldn't see any reason to.

The gap was quickly closing between him and the laptop's location, and so far, security seemed pretty light. One more turn and he'd be there.

Adam cautiously looked around the bend, searching for cameras, guards…anything. Certain it was safe, he crept from his hiding place, approaching the one and only door in the hallway. He gave the doorknob an experimental twist, clenching his jaw when the movement met resistance. Locked.

Glancing around, he retrieved his tools, setting to work. Something in him screamed that he was in over his head. That he should get out of there. He chalked it up to nerves and adrenaline. Fear was a natural thing and it had its purpose. But now was not the time.

He listened intently for the click of the lock, only to stop immediately. He'd heard something. He was sure of it.

The faint footsteps of rubber-soled boots echoed down the hall.

Adam quickly pulled his picklock for the doorknob, sprinting as quietly as possible down the hall to hide.

But he wasn't fast enough.

There was a shout behind him and the immediate discharge of a gun. Pain ripped through his thigh, and he let out a startled cry as he tripped over his feet. Adrenaline was already surging through his veins, helping him push past the debilitating pain as he ran around the corner into the maze of hallways. He pulled his handgun from its holster, preparing to defend himself if he had to. His free hand clamped over the sting in his thigh, warm wetness seeping through the fabric of his pants.

There was talking in his ear, and he'd heard his name several times. More gunfire popped behind him, and he sprinted down another path. Blood was streaming through his fingers now, his blood pumping in his escape. Determined to move faster, he let go of his thigh, running with the warm fuel of adrenaline in his veins.

Footsteps converged behind him. He glanced back to see a small group of shouting, angry guards. Using his handgun would be pointless now. It would only slow him down. His exit was close. Within reach. He was gulping air greedily, but he couldn't slow down.

"Coming out hot," he huffed, already reaching for the door. As soon as his hand was on the knob, he pulled the door open, painfully aware of how close his pursuers were. Adam pushed with everything he had to get out. To get to safety.

And then strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back in.

He knew it was over.

He'd failed.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note:**_ _Wow! So many kind reviews! This fandom is so sweet and supportive; I absolutely love it. Thank you so, so much for your wonderful reviews. They warmed my heart. I can only hope that I won't let you all down (and I'm a bit nervous about it). Things get a little dark in this chapter, so beware, but I hope it's a good read!_

 **CHAPTER 2**

Jaz stared patiently down the scope of her gun. She didn't like this. Adam shouldn't be in there alone. But now that he was in, it was her job to offer support where she could. The opportunity for disagreeing was over, and all she was left with was a heavy knot of unease in her chest. Something just felt off.

She tensed at the sound of a shout and a gunshot over the comms, quickly alarmed by Adam's cry of pain.

"Top?" she muttered, her quiet voice tight with worry. He didn't answer, and her anxiety doubled. She breathed through the panic, keeping her body steady as she maintained her gaze down the scope.

Adam's breathing was heavy over the line, and Director Campbell offered the calmest inquiries she could.

 _"Dalton. Dalton, what's going on?"_

More labored breathing. The quick footsteps of a man running for his life.

 _"Coming out hot,"_ he gasped. Jaz narrowed her focus, keeping her sights on the southeast door. She wasn't sure where he'd come out but suspected he might double back on a familiar path.

She watched the doorknob twist. The door swung inward. Adam burst out.

And then someone pulled him back in.

She saw the arms clamp around his middle, tugging him angrily back into the shadows.

Then the door slammed shut.

And Adam was gone.

Jaz lifted her head from the scope, staring in shock at what just happened. What she had seen. There was Russian shouting over the comms, Adam's own voice mingled in with the chaos.

Then the unmistakable sound of a crushed earpiece, followed by suffocating silence.

Taking deep breaths, Jaz blinked harshly in the darkness. "They got him. He came out the southeast door, but they got him before I could get a clear shot."

Stunned quiet buzzed over the comms, a rainbow of emotions washing over the team.

Jaz inhaled slowly. Deeply. "From what I could tell, it looks like he'd sustained an injury to the leg. Upper thigh. Couldn't see how bad it was."

There were a few seconds of nothing. Then Preach spoke. "Let's move to the meetup point." A rustling of movement immediately came over the line as the older man sighed loudly. "Command, what's our next move?"

In DC, Director Campbell watched Dalton's live body cam footage, her locket at her lips as Adam fought against his captors. The Russian men struggled to restrain him, lashing out with kicks and punches. Patricia's gaze flicked to the edge of the screen, spotting the unmistakable dark stain of blood on Adam's thigh.

The body cam was ripped from the team leader's gear and promptly turned off. Noah and Hannah stood anxiously, wordlessly staring at the main screen.

Folding her arms, Patricia dropped her locket to her collarbone.

"Continue with the mission," she sighed, dropping her head. Hannah's brows dipped in confusion while Noah's eyes dropped to his desk. The comms were quiet, ringing with the team's own speechless reaction.

Patricia lifted her head higher, pursing her lips. "And take steps to recover Dalton."

A pause.

 _"Understood,"_ Preach answered, a hint of relief in his voice.

They didn't have to be asked twice.

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Adam limped heavily as he followed his captors, twisting his wrists against a heavy-duty zip tie. The adrenaline was starting to fade, leaving excruciating pain in the tear of his flesh. The bullet had ripped through the edge of his thigh, being more of a deep graze than a hole. But walking was quickly becoming difficult, and he was starting to feel lightheaded.

Even now, his mind was thinking of a way to escape, despite the loss of his weapons and protective gear. He twisted harder against the zip tie.

Attempting to ignore the agonizing pain in his thigh, Adam spared a thought for his team, wondering what they were doing now. Hopefully thinking up a new plan to retrieve the laptop. That was most important.

The muzzle of a rifle prodded his back, and he stumbled into a vacant storage area. One of the guards spoke into a handheld receiver and patiently waited for a response. A low voice crackled over the radio, and Adam was quickly shoved into a spare chair.

The movement sent his head spinning, and he fought to steady it. He pulled at the zip tie again, looking up at his captors warily.

After a few minutes, another man came into the room, his posture stiff and tall. Clearly, he was in charge. Most of the guards were dismissed; two remained as the others filed out of the room to return to their posts. The newcomer stared at Adam for several moments, studying him in the stale air of the room.

When he was satisfied, he began slowly circling Adam. "I don't know who you are, but it's clear you're American." English rolled easily off his tongue, touched by a distinctive Russian accent. "So I'll be frank: what did you come here for?"

Adam looked down at his lap, pressing his lips together.

Minutes of silence ticked on. There was a heavy sigh from the man behind him, and Adam caught movement at his left. Before he could brace himself, there was a vicious blow to his face, one guard's knuckles pounding against his cheekbone. A coppery taste pricked his tongue, and he resisted the urge to spit it out.

"I say again: what were you hoping to find here?"

Adam watched his captor circle around toward his front. The team leader stared stubbornly, the side of his face aching.

One of the remaining guards spoke up in Russian, holding up Adam's now broken earpiece. The higher-up took the small device, inspecting it as the guard continued to speak. Once the guard was finished, the man turned back to Adam.

"You have a team?"

Adam said nothing.

The man cocked his head in frustration, his brow furrowing. "If you don't give us answers, we'll have to do more to…convince you."

Breathing through the throbbing in his leg, Adam put on his best defiant expression. "Looks like my schedule just opened up."

The man stood taller, huffing through his nose. "If you insist."

There was a glint of steel as one guard handed the man a knife, then both guards stepped forward, zip ties in hand.

Adam steeled himself for whatever lay ahead.

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"Okay, quick recap," Preach began. They'd been discussing new options for the past half hour, trying to be quick but thorough. "We go in through the southeast door. McG and I will retrieve the package while Jaz and Amir shadow us from behind. Once the package is secure, we'll find Top, recover him, and head back to the meetup point."

Everyone nodded in understanding, shifting impatiently.

Preach looked at each of them before gripping his rifle tighter. "Then let's make this quick."

He and McG moved through the brush first, approaching the building with stealth and precision. Jaz and Amir followed at some length behind, keeping a careful eye out for their teammates.

They were intent on retrieving the laptop.

But their minds were with Adam.

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Adam bit his lip as the knife punctured his skin. He watched crimson well up on his forearm, a small bubble at the point of the knife. Clenching his jaw, he looked up at his captor, wondering apprehensively what was next.

His wrists were restrained against the arms of the chair, his ankles zip tied to the front legs. Blood dripped freely from his thigh, coating the natural wood beneath him with red. The lightheadedness was only getting worse, a low stream of adrenaline adding weary stability. Adam knew what was coming. From here, there could only be pain.

And as he stared at the tip of the knife poked into his skin, all he could think about was the team. As long as they completed the mission—as long as they made it through safely—he could deal with what came next.

Without warning, his captor shoved the knife all the way through his arm and into the wood of the chair.

A startled scream ripped from Adam's throat as a fresh wave of dizziness splashed through his head.

"What are you after?" the man asked calmly.

Dalton looked up, huffing as he remained silent. As long as the team was safe, he could do this. He could stay strong.

His captor shook his head, his hand clasping the knife's handle. With one, abrupt motion, he tore the knife from Adam's arm, drawing another cry from the team leader.

Adam maintained a steady glare, breathing heavily through the fiery agony in his limb.

"What are you after?" the man repeated, enunciating each word clearly. Stubborn silence fell over the room, Adam's hands curled over the arms of the chair in quiet anger.

The two of them stared at each other, unwavering. Pained rage met calculated coldness, blue eyes meeting brown. They knew this would be a long, drawn-out battle of strength and resolve. Neither would give up easily.

Silence lingered for another long minute, two strong personalities quietly regarding each other. The sharp odor of blood filtered through the room, mixing with the old, tired scent of aging boxes.

Adam's captor stood taller, staring down at his captive.

Abruptly, the man swung the knife down again, slamming the handle onto Adam's hand.

Bones gave way under the force.

There were a few cracks.

And a burst of pain.

Adam couldn't hold back the yell, his hand throbbing angrily. He was allowed a few minutes of reprieve as he caught his breath, his hand already purpling and swelling. There were tears in the skin from the force of the blow, and the sting of the open cuts mixed with the sharp ache of broken bones.

"If you don't give me answers, I'll be forced the continue," the man threatened, wiping the blade of the knife with a clean, white cloth. Adam watched red smear onto white, unnerved by the gruesome contrast. He didn't say a word, intent on outlasting his enemy.

The man inhaled deeply, nodding his head. "So be it." He waved on one of the guards as he stepped toward the edge of the room. The larger underling set his rifle aside, shrugging off the stiff top of his uniform.

As the guard moved forward, Adam stared at the larger man's clenched fists.

And he boldly lifted his head a little higher.

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The team moved quietly down the hallway, rifles held steady as they tread carefully. From what Noah had told them, security was fairly light. With a quiet approach and even quieter elimination, they could easily get to the laptop.

And nothing would stop them from getting Top back.

As they approached a corner, Preach signaled a stop, peering carefully around the bend. Footsteps echoed from their left, and Jaz moved quickly, turning to aim her gun down the dimly lit corridor.

A guard rounded the corner. Jaz pulled the trigger, releasing the pump of a suppressed shot. And he fell quietly to the floor.

The team shared glances before they moved along, cautious as they ventured deeper into the network of hallways and storage areas.

They were anxious. More anxious than usual. Even with the mission at hand, their eyes darted from wall to wall, looking for signs of Top.

The quiet didn't help.

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Adam measured each breath carefully, uncomfortably aware of his newly broken ribs. They ground against each other whenever he shifted, shooting painful sparks through his torso. His strength was slowly draining away, and he was quickly growing tired.

Still, he wouldn't say a word. He'd die here if he had to.

"I'm starting to lose patience," muttered his captor, walking around Adam in a slow, thoughtful ring. He was twirling the knife in his hands, a whisper of the hurt to come. Adam didn't care. He'd been prepared for this. Pain was an inevitable outcome of his occupation.

The room was silent as the man stopped, leaning closer to Adam's face. "Tell me what you came here for."

The quiet lingered, a rebellious glint in Adam's gaze.

There was a flash of silver as the knife was pressed against Adam's bare bicep, just under the hem of his sleeve. The team leader didn't react, instead watching the man with a dark stare.

Metal bit into Adam's arm, digging deep as the blade dragged through flesh. The knife slowly carved through delicate layers of skin and muscle, trailing down the length of the limb. Adam clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, his breaths shaky and pained. Steel sliced cleanly through veins and nerves, and Adam couldn't stop the agonized growls from behind pursed lips.

The pain was overwhelming, jolting through his body sharply. Adam could only pray for relief.

And for the first time since his capture, he felt excruciatingly alone. All he could do was suffer through it. There was only him here. He could only rely on himself.

And for minute, he wasn't sure he could.

But he'd be damned if he let his team down.

"Tell me."

The knife was at his forearm, leaving a fresh stripe of agony in its wake. Red continued to trail toward his wrist, slow and cruel.

Adam let out a yelp as the knife scraped against his wrist bone.

 _Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop._

He wanted to scream, but the stubborn side of him refused. He wouldn't give the man the satisfaction.

The blade finally came to a halt, and Adam was left shaking in the aftermath. His pain-filled eyes sought out his captor, a hard determination mixed with the burn of pain. The man smirked, relishing in the rough vulnerability.

He pulled the knife from Adam's wrist, moving back to his bicep.

And then he started again.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note:**_ _Oh my, you are all such sweet, wonderful folks. Thank you for your encouragement. Your reviews are wonderful lights in the dark corner of author panic. Thank you all for reading my tale. Onto the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it._

 **CHAPTER 3**

The team was close, and security had grown heavier. After Adam's first attempt, guards had congregated around the targeted room, regularly sweeping surrounding halls and other areas. The faint patter of footsteps echoed from different directions, and the team readied themselves as they moved quickly and quietly.

While their arrival was clearly expected, they still had some element of surprise, and they planned to hold onto it as long as possible.

Preach and McG moved ahead, guns at the ready while Amir and Jaz hung back, keeping a close eye out for any unexpected danger.

Two uniformed men came from a side corridor, and Jaz and Amir were quick to pull the trigger before the men had the chance to raise alarm.

If everything went smoothly, this would be a breeze.

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Adam was starting to feel it deeply now. The blood loss left an overwhelming weakness behind. The pain pulsed through every limb and rib. And as the last of his adrenaline reserves burned away, the dizziness hit him full force. His head was starting to dip toward his chest, his eyes sliding to a reluctant close for a brief second.

His captor was circling again, wiping the knife as he went. While Adam listened to the man's quiet footsteps, he could feel every ache and pain with surprising clarity. His hand throbbed angrily while his ribs shifted and screamed with every breath. One forearm ached as cooling blood dripped over his skin. The red, macabre stripes on his other arm stung sharply, and hot tendrils of pain pulsed from the torn flesh of his upper thigh.

And just as Adam's blood was starting to settle, a white-hot pain jolted through his other leg.

He snapped his eyes open with a yell, gaze falling on the handle of the knife, buried just above his knee. The shock had sent a wave of movement through his form, reawakening dulling pains. In the wake of it all, Adam's body shook, engulfed in fire and hurt.

"Couldn't have you passing out just yet," the man explained, looking bored. Adam was huffing against the new agony, his ribs throbbing.

The man grabbed the handle of the knife and twisted, tearing another scream from Adam. It was getting harder to hold back. He was so tired.

But he'd fight on. He'd never give up.

His captor crouched down, hand still on the handle of the knife. At an agonizingly slow pace, he pulled the knife upward, the blade scraping against sliced and ragged nerves.

"Tell me," the man pressed. The knife continued to slowly slide from Adam's leg, sending a constant, sharp pain through his thigh. Adam's breathing was wild and shallow, hitching as he pushed through the new torture.

And still, Adam wouldn't say a word.

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Jaz stiffened at the muffled scream, hidden somewhere in the knot of corridors and storage rooms. Part of her wondered if it was just her imagination.

She looked at Amir, the two sharing fearful looks.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

So it wasn't her imagination.

"Was that Top?" she whispered, glancing down the hallway. They'd managed to make it to the target room without incident, dropping any potential threats as they picked their way through the building. Preach and McG were already inside to retrieve the laptop.

Amir shook his head, peering down his half of the hallway. "I can't be sure."

Jaz hated to think that the pained yell could've been Adam, but what else could it be? She was growing impatient, her imagination running wild with what could have befallen their fearless leader. Amir shifted beside her, most likely thinking a similar vein of thought.

"Come on, come on, come on," Amir muttered under his breath, his frame tense with anxiety.

The sniper stayed silent, trying to push down her own unease.

McG quietly emerged from the doorway, Preach close behind. "Package secured," Preach reported, looking around. "Let's go get Top."

Amir and Jaz looked at each other, wordlessly communicating. The ex-spy took a deep breath and looked to Preach. "Jaz and I heard some kind of yell. We thought it could be Top."

McG's mouth pressed into a thin line as Preach's own expression pinched in worry.

"Lead the way."

Without hesitation, Jaz and Amir moved ahead, proceeding toward where they'd heard the noise. Preach and McG were close behind, following as calmly as they could manage.

They heard the low buzz of a voice ahead and stopped, sensing they were close. Sparing each other a brief glance, they pressed on, noiselessly approaching an open storage area.

Jaz couldn't stop the sharp inhale when she saw Adam.

The blood. The bruises. And the unnatural paleness to his skin.

Her eyes fell to the knife being slowly drawn from his leg, and a rage blazed through her body.

The torturer turned, his eyes widening at their presence. Alarmed, he pulled the knife completely free of Adam's leg, standing quickly.

Jaz aimed and fired.

It only took one shot.

The body fell sloppily to the floor, the bloody knife clattering across concrete.

The other two guards in the room turned quickly with their weapons at the ready. Preach and Amir didn't allow them a chance to fight back.

McG rushed forward as the other three swiftly scanned the area for other threats.

"Clear," Jaz announced in a rough voice. Her throat felt tight as she lowered her rifle, letting her eyes fall on Adam.

She was frozen in place, appraising the team leader carefully. He looked awful. Spent. Blood was dripping on the floor from both arms, and one of his hands was unmistakably broken. She winced as she traced the purpling blossoms on the back of his hand. Clearly, pain was the goal.

Preach was already cutting the zip ties around Adam's wrists and ankles, McG pulling piles of gauze from his kit. Amir had found Adam's discarded gear in the corner of the room and was stuffing what he could into his pack.

"We gotcha, Top," Preach muttered, gently removing the zip ties. Thin lines of bruising were already cutting into Adam's wrists, a testament of his fight against the restraints.

"Did you…did you get the package?" Adam asked wearily, his voice husky and torn. Jaz thought she heard his breath hitch, and a dark, angry cold seeped into her bones.

"Really, Top?" McG huffed, tearing open packets of gauze. "That's the first thing you ask?"

Adam's head dropped forward, his eyes heavy.

"Hey, Top," McG pressed, gently tapping Adam's face. "I know you're tired, man. But you've got to stay awake. We still have to get you out of here."

Adam sat up straighter in an attempt to stay alert, only to grunt in pain as he held his breath.

The medic caught on quickly. "What? What is it?"

Adam shook his head but stopped abruptly with a wince. "Ribs…jus' broken ribs."

Carefully lifting Adam's shirt, McG pressed his lips together. One side of Adam's rib cage was already covered in an impressive bloom of purple bruises. Jaz looked away, her own chest aching at the sight.

McG swallowed a curse, dropping the shirt and hastily pressing gauze against the bullet wound on Adam's thigh. Adam cried out in pain, gasping when his ribs shifted.

The medic swiftly handed Preach a few packets of gauze, his eyes roving over Adam's many injuries. Eager to help, Jaz moved forward, grabbing gauze on her own and moving to Adam's side. Amir did the same, quickly working on the deep stab wound on the team leader's forearm.

With her gaze falling to the deep lines of crimson in Adam's arm, Jaz ripped open one package. Three long lines ran from bicep to wrist, clean and precise. Nausea swirled in her gut as she briskly pressed gauze against his arm. A small sound of pain fell from Adam's lips with the pressure, and Jaz did her best to block it out.

Looking at his face, she could tell he was trying to stay strong. To prove that he was still in control. But, hell, he looked so exhausted, and every breath scraped his lungs with a shallow rasp. Jaz returned to her task, eyes tracing the thick red lines as she pulled out more gauze.

She swallowed thickly when she came to his wrist, spotting a glimpse of bone in the cut. Closing her eyes, she hurriedly hid the wound with fresh bandaging.

As the team worked, Adam occasionally let out a weak cry, his breath stuttering with every new bandage. Each grunt and gasp cut them all deeply, proving that Adam wasn't as invulnerable as they wanted to believe.

At least he was alive.

Finished with his own task, Amir moved to help Jaz secure the bandaging around Adam's arm. Adam was beginning to fade, his head down, his eyes closed.

McG patted his knee with an urgent quickness. "You still with me, Top?"

It took Adam a few seconds to answer, and the silence was suffocating. "…Yeah."

The medic took a deep breath, taking Adam's chin in one hand as he inspected the developing bruise against the team leader's cheekbone. Hell, no matter how many times McG did it, patching up teammates would always be one of the hardest things he ever had to do.

"Okay, Top. We're gonna have to get you up and out of that chair," McG muttered as Amir and Jaz secured the last of the bandaging. "On the count of three." He took a hold of Adam's uninjured bicep as he shifted positions. Preach quickly moved to Adam's other side, taking the team leader's good hand. "One, two…three."

Preach and McG pulled Adam up from the chair, tearing a harsh growl from the injured man's lungs. The sound grated on their ears as cold shivers burned down their backs.

"Alright, steady," McG coached. He slid Adam's arm over his shoulder, mindful of the bruised, broken hand and ribs. Preach did the same on Adam's left. The blond breathed heavily through the movement, squeezing his eyes shut at the pull against his ribs. It quickly became clear he couldn't stand on his own, the wounds to his legs too painful and deep. He hung heavily between his two supports, struggling with even that.

The team set out, navigating the threads of hallways as they maneuvered around fallen guards. Adam's breathing was erratic, punctuated by sharp gasps of pain. It unsettled McG, and he wished passionately for a quick, smooth escape.

Jaz moved expertly ahead of them while Amir covered their backs. There was an anxious look in their eyes, their posture stiff. Preach and McG were swiftly moving with Adam between them, the team leader trying to walk a little to be less of a burden.

As they wandered further down the halls, Adam let out a small grunt or two, grimacing against the pain in his legs and chest. They were close, and the door was quickly approaching.

Jaz pushed the door open, holding it as Preach and McG dragged Adam over the threshold. The team leader was quickly losing strength, the agony and torture catching up to him. He still did his best to walk, but the pain was too much, and the energy it took was overwhelming.

Amir quietly closed the door behind them, and the team moved through the shadows. They made it to the edge of the property, weaving through the brush.

"Command, we're free and clear and making our way back to transport," Preach whispered. Adam's weight was heavy, the team leader losing more and more strength with every step.

 _"How's Dalton?"_ Patricia asked, her firm voiced edged with worry. Most likely, she'd seen some extent of the damage through their body cams. Perhaps she was looking for a positive reassurance.

Preach looked at McG, catching the medic's own grim expression. "Alive but in bad shape."

There was a tense silence on the other end, abuzz with an overwhelming anxiousness.

"I'll get a better look when we get back to transport," McG reported, painfully aware of Adam's huffs and grunts. Looking up at the road ahead of them, McG grimaced at the distance. "Just hold on a little longer, Top."

Jaz looked back, her expression pinching as she watched Adam stumble onward.

 _People like us don't do powerless very well._

Her own words echoed in her head as she was left to simply watch him suffer. Crimson had already seeped through various bandages, a stark reminder of his injuries. And until they were in the truck, heading back to safety, he just had to plow on.

The team moved silently toward where they'd abandoned the truck, Adam's breathing turning into pained wheezing. He was determined to push himself onward, pressing past his limits.

Finally, the truck came into sight.

They quickly cleared the last few hundred feet, Jaz running ahead to pull the tailgate down. Adam was sagging wearily between McG and Preach, too tired to go on anymore. His feet managed a halfhearted stumble, and Preach ended up dragging the team leader for the final few yards as McG jumped into the bed of the truck.

"Careful," Jaz muttered, her large eyes watching worriedly. McG reached out to take Adam, dragging the leader up into the back as carefully as he could. Adam let out a whimper, scrunching his eyes shut as his ribs screamed in protest. He looked positively drained, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of unconsciousness.

Jaz blinked harshly and bit her lip. She knew he shouldn't have gone in alone. They all did.

"Get in the back, Jaz. McG could use your help."

She looked at Preach, knowing exactly what he was doing. Without hesitation, she climbed into the bed of the truck, closing the tailgate with a forceful pull. Preach was already stepping up into the passenger seat, and as soon as everyone was situated, Amir smoothly pulled the truck out onto the road.

Adam was still. Small pitiful grunts fell from his mouth with every bump and rumble, and his eyes fell shut as he did his best to breathe past the spikes of discomfort

"What can I do?" Jaz asked, desperate for a distraction from the pale hue of Adam's face.

McG held out more gauze. "Put some pressure on that leg."

She immediately did as she was told, grabbing the bandaging and leaning her weight on the wound. Adam gasped painfully, too tired for a sharper reaction.

Jaz thought back to her own captivity, her eyes trailing Adam's bloody bandages. She remembered the pain, the injuries. But while every wound was painful, Adam's were different. Deeper. Bloodier. The result of a brittle, deep-set rage. A different kind of inhumane.

How he could even take a step at all was a mystery all on its own.

Jaz's mind flashed back to the initial entry, the sick image of a red-glinted blade pulling slowly from Adam's leg.

She shared a look with McG, her own eyes full of anger and sorrow. He frowned, holding her gaze as long as he could before refocusing on Adam's broken hand. "You alright, Jaz?"

"Yeah, fine," she muttered, her voice strangely hoarse. There was a pause, the squeaks and rattles of the old truck filling the quiet night. Jaz looked down at Adam's arm, seeing the bloody stripes in the gauze. Adam would say it's part of their job. That they agreed to all the pain and injury from the moment they accepted the position.

In a way, it was. But that didn't make it any easier.

McG cupped Adam's face as he took a hard look at the team leader. "Looks like he passed out."

Looking at Adam, Jaz recognized the slack expression of unconsciousness. She moved her eyes to McG and watched him manipulate the bones in Adam's broken hand. Just watching was painful, and she couldn't hold back her own heavy grimace. But if there was a time to do it, it was now. No doubt, resetting a broken hand was incredibly painful—and there was no better painkiller than the bliss of unconsciousness.

But damn, she could hardly stand to watch. She should've gone with him. She should've insisted.

Just imagining how his hand had been broken was unbearable.

Jaz looked back down at her own hands, black gloves pressed tightly against the bright white of gauze. The wind whispered through the darkness, the truck bouncing lightly over rough roads. Everything was still in the middle of the night. But in the back of an old, beat up truck, there was silent chaos.

And yet, the rest of the world kept turning.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note:**_ _Huzzah! Another chapter. I really struggled with this one, so I hope it doesn't disappoint! And I'm sorry I didn't post quite as fast as my other chapters. I went out of town for a long weekend and spent time with family, so I got a bit behind. Forgive me! Also, this chapter isn't really all that action-packed, so be prepared for the change in pace. You are all wonderful, and I really hope you all find this chapter enjoyable. :)_

 **CHAPTER 4**

This was unbearable.

Patricia watched McG's and Jaz's body cam footage, a fist pressed against her mouth. The whole room was tense, her team staring at the screens with anxious eyes.

It was clear Adam had passed out, most likely overwhelmed by blood loss and the painful journey to the truck. But they had seen it all. The trails of blood on too-pale skin. The battered ribs and discolored hand.

The price of Adam's protective side.

Patricia knew the risks of Adam's need to keep his team safe. It made her uneasy, but she understood. She knew she couldn't keep him from fulfilling what he felt was his duty.

And honestly, it was one of the things she appreciated most about the team leader. It said a lot about his character, and she was proud to have him on her team.

Then there were times like this when she wished he wasn't so quick to sacrifice himself. But then he wouldn't be Adam.

She pursed her lips when McGuire started setting Adam's hand, her eyes focused on what bruising she could see in the evening light. From the corner of her eye, she saw Noah look away, most likely closing his eyes. Hanna didn't move, forcing herself to watch.

 _"Command, we've made it out without further incident."_

Preach's voice brought Patricia back to the big picture. She suppressed a sigh, determined to stay strong.

 _"Once we get back to the base point, we'll prepare for departure."_

She could almost hear what he wasn't saying. Adam was their priority, and there was no way the team would leave before he was as ready as he could be for the long flight back to Turkey.

She eyed the pale face of the team leader, pallid skin lit only by the soft shine of the moon.

"Understood," she replied, folding her arms. "We'll cut contact for now, but we'll be on standby."

 _"Yes, ma'am."_

There was a half a second of silence. "And Preach?"

 _"Hm?"_

"Keep us updated on Dalton's condition."

 _"Of course."_

There was a soft rustling as the team turned off their comms, plunging the command room in silence.

Patricia glanced down at her desk, trying to focus on the successes of the mission. Her eyes moved to look at Dalton again, guilt nestling in the center of her chest.

She should've pushed back. She shouldn't have let him go in alone.

One by one, the team turned off their body cams, leaving a black screen behind.

This time, Patricia didn't stop the sigh.

"Great work, everyone."

Her voice was hollow, a shadow of her usual confident tone.

Noah and Hannah didn't say a word.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The old, abandoned building came into view, the worn, ancient walls a welcome sight. Amir slowed the truck to a stop, parking as close to the door as he could manage.

Adam was still out, looking more than a little worse for wear.

Hell, he already looked half dead.

Overcome by a moment of fear, Jaz reached out to brush her fingers lightly through Adam's hair. Thankfully, he was still warm. Still alive. She glanced up at McG to see if he noticed her touch, somewhat relieved when he wasn't looking.

This was so out of the realm of normal, Jaz didn't know how to react. None of them did. Most times, Adam had an almost superhuman strength. In China, with cracked ribs, he'd climbed up onto a horse and made it back to Mongolia without a complaint. He'd even laughed.

In a way, they'd gotten used to his seemingly invincible behavior. He'd take risks, he'd throw himself into danger—but in the end, he was always okay.

Jaz thought back to Adam's small whimper as they pulled him into the truck. Her chest tightened at the memory, her heart aching.

It was the most painful sound she'd ever heard.

Preach pulled down the tailgate, hopping up into the truck bed.

"Grab his legs. I'll get his shoulders," McG instructed, moving to Adam's head. Jaz was forced to abandon her post, taking her hands off Adam's thigh. Luckily, the bleeding had slowed. Eager to get out of the way, she climbed over the side of the truck and jumped down to the dusty dirt, gaze catching Amir's.

The ex-spy was watching Preach and McG carry Adam out of the truck, the team leader's body limp. Amir's stare swirled with vibrant emotions. Worry, anger, fear. Over the last few months, Jaz'd quickly learned that Amir felt more deeply the most—he was just good at hiding it. Like she was.

They were a lot more alike than she'd originally thought.

Amir turned to her, his sharp eyes softening. He dropped a comforting hand on her shoulder, leaving it for a few understanding seconds before moving to follow Preach and McG. Somehow, the small gesture gave Jaz a bit of warmth she didn't realize she needed. Her heart slowed, the tightness in her chest lessening.

Taking a deep breath, she moved to follow, clenching her hands into fists.

Amir opened the door as Preach and McG maneuvered Adam into the old building, being as gentle as possible. Their careful movements spoke volumes, testifying of their respect for the blond team leader.

Jaz slipped in behind them, feeling Amir's own unease as she passed him. She stepped further inside, just as Preach and McG gingerly set Adam on a cleaner patch of old flooring.

The medic was quick to shrug off his pack, rifling through the contents. He pulled out a headlamp, hastily stretching it over his head as he reached in for antiseptic solution, scissors, and sutures, carefully setting the items on the floor. Without another thought, he retrieved a bag of saline, quickly slipping an IV into Adam's arm, handing the bag to Preach.

"What first?" Preach muttered, crouched down next to Adam with the bag of saline held high in his hand. Jaz and Amir stood with their arms folded, both trying desperately to smother their anxious feelings.

McG breathed in deeply. "I'll start with this leg."

Preach nodded, taking Adam's uninjured hand. "Let me know if you need help."

McG nodded grimly, ripping off his tactical gloves to snap on clean surgical ones. Sighing, he pulled at the gauze around Adam's left leg, grimacing at the bloody stab wound underneath. It was raw and ugly, the edges ragged and rough. McG's thorough training was both a blessing and a curse.

Just looking at the wound, he could almost see the twist of the knife.

Clenching his teeth, he tore the hole in the fabric wider, thoroughly cleansing the injury and checking for debris. After a little preparation, he began stitching the wound, steady and careful with every knot.

Behind him, Amir and Jaz slowly removed their tactical gear, their movements reverent and tired. Besides McG, there wasn't much any of them could do but wait and watch.

Preach observed McG's face as he worked, seeing every pinch and grimace. He knew how hard this was on the medic. While Joseph was happy to be of help at any moment, stitching teammates back together was personal. More emotional.

Free of her tactical gear, Jaz moved closer to see McG work. She bit her lip, eyes outlining the bloody, jagged edges of the injury. "That must've been excruciating."

Amir huffed through his nose with an uncomfortable empathy as he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. They were all intimate with pain, and it was hard not to imagine the hell Adam had been put through.

It had been the same when Jaz was taken. Every knife wound and bruise drew a vivid image in their own heads, and it took weeks to push those thoughts to the back of their minds.

Satisfied with the stitching, McG moved on to the other leg, following the same procedure. The team tried not to think about the amount of blood in the surrounding fabric. Adam had lost so much.

The minutes felt impossibly long, and Amir took to pacing to walk off some of the sting of worry. Jaz stood still, forcing herself to watch every stitch. To see the wash of crimson on McG's blue gloves.

Time passed slowly, tormenting the team with every minute and second. As the first pale light of the day peeked over the horizon, McG had managed to stitch up both legs and one arm.

All that was left was the long, bloody lines.

Adam was still unconscious, his limp hand held tightly in Preach's own. The stillness ate away at Jaz and Amir, but McG was almost grateful for it. It was hard enough to be this close to every bloody tear. Having to witness any more of Adam's pain would only make this harder.

He peeled away the bandaging around Adam's left arm, wincing at the three lengthy slices. For such precision, they had to be carved slowly.

McG suddenly felt sick.

Breathing through the new feelings of discomfort, he prepared his needle and carefully cleaned each stripe.

How did they get themselves in these situations?

McG swallowed thickly and pushed one end of a wound closed, poking his needle through with practiced ease and pulling the thread.

Just as he was about to go for the second stitch, Adam awoke with a gasp, his blue eyes foggy as they stared at the ceiling. His uninjured hand curled tightly around Preach's, knuckles white. His breathing was suddenly rough and uneven, full of agony.

"Top. Adam, you're okay," Preach said quietly, squeezing Adam's hand to offer what support he could. "We've got you. You're okay." Adam eyes shut tightly as he let out a pained, hoarse growl. They could tell he was trying to stay as still as possible, his body tense with the effort.

McG hastily searched for something to numb the pain, a low buzz of panic under his skin. Worried, Jaz crouched by the team leader, settling a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Just breathe through it, Top. Come on, take it easy."

Amir moved to stand quietly on his other side, watching McG dig into his pack.

"Alright, Top. I'm going to give you a general anesthetic. You're just going to feel a small prick, and then you'll be out," the medic explained, his voice even and controlled.

Adam shook his head. "No," he muttered. "Local."

McG paused, giving Adam a hard stare. He looked up at Preach, something vulnerable hidden behind his dark eyes. "I only have enough local to stitch up this arm."

"I's okay," Adam mumbled, clenching his teeth as he pressed his lips together stubbornly. "Don' wanna be asleep."

Biting his lip, McG retrieved a syringe from his pack, ripping open the packaging before checking for air bubbles. He inserted the needle into Adam's arm, carefully applying the local anesthetic where it was needed.

McG faked a smile, quickly continuing with his sutures to get it over with. He hated this. Dammit, he hated this. In some ways, Adam's pain was his pain. "You're one stubborn bastard, Top."

Adam fought to get his breathing under control, finally managing semi-even respiration, each inhale shaky. "Can't sleep on the job," he replied tightly.

"I think the director would understand," Preach reasoned quietly. "And we completed our objective. I would consider this mission essentially over."

Adam shook his head. "Won't do it." He opened his eyes, staring back at the ceiling.

Preach looked at McG, their eyes locking. The larger man had his own suspicion of why Adam opted to stay awake. It was clear that Adam's top priority with every mission was the team's safety. And after Jaz's capture, he had a greater need to keep everyone safe.

Most likely, he refused the general anesthetic to make sure everyone made it back home in one piece. To see it with his own eyes.

Preach exhaled through his nose, nodding. "Whatever you need, Top."

The team suffered through the last hour, listening to Adam's shaky breathing as McG carefully stitched each long cut. There was a quiet anger in the team leader's huffs, a sign of his own rebellion against the pain of his other injuries.

Honestly, the team wouldn't expect anything less.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"I can help," Adam croaked, breathing deeply with his eyes closed. He sat against the wall with his head tilted back, the bag of saline hanging on an abandoned nail in the wall, nearly empty.

McG shot him an exasperated glare, gathering his gear with abrupt jerks. Everyone else shared a look of quiet frustration.

"Top, you look like shit and you can barely walk," Jaz huffed, forcefully shoving her clothes into her pack. "You're not leaving that spot."

They were moving as quickly as they could, eager to get Adam back to a familiar territory. He'd refused any kind of painkiller and was stubbornly trying to stay conscious for as long as he could.

While McG was confident that his stitching was tight and clean, Adam's pallor worried him, and he was anxious to get a blood transfusion going.

But that was difficult when no one on the team shared Adam's blood type.

Adam listened to the shuffling movements of his team, his body weighed down by weakness and blood loss. Moving even an arm was surprisingly difficult, and everything seemed to ache.

He felt so helpless, and he hated it.

With a slow inhale, he opened his eyes, looking down at his bandages. In his mind's eye, he could see each injury with vivid clarity. He remembered the blood. The pain.

The loneliness.

Adam winced as the memories assaulted his thoughts, violently shoving their way in.

He hastily tried to push his mind somewhere else.

Eyes on his team, he could feel himself fading. But he'd fight it as much as possible. His eyelids felt heavy. Hell, everything felt heavy. And leaning his back on this wall only made it worse.

But he'd insisted on it.

He could barely stand the thought of lying on the floor while his team moved throughout the room. And the last thing he wanted was to get in the way. Still, he wanted to be beside them, working with them. Not here, left sitting against an old, crumbling wall.

The place smelled dustier than he remembered. Older. Wearier. If he had the energy, he would've laughed. He could relate.

His gaze fell lazily to his hand, vibrant bruises hidden behind somewhat stiff bandaging. Of course the bastards broke his left. What a time to be a lefty.

Foggy thoughts filtered through his head, confused and lost. He knew he wasn't all there. The bag of saline wasn't enough, and the blood he had left struggled to pick up the slack.

He closed his eyes. If he stayed still, the pain would fall into a muffled hum, and to be honest, it wasn't difficult to be motionless.

"How you doing, Top?"

Gentle hands checked the bandaging twisted around his palm and fingers, making sure it was secure.

Adam slid his lids open, looking at McG. "Peachy." He took a moment to look at the medic. To _really_ look at him. It took a lot of focus, but he managed a careful inspection. "McGuire, you look like shit."

McG raised his brows, leveling a look at his team leader. "Says the guy who can't stand by himself."

Adam smirked, closing his eyes again. "Jus' a technicality." There was a beat of silence before he squinted up at the medic. "But really, you look terrible."

"How about we focus on you first, hm?"

McG didn't like how Adam looked. It was clear the blond was resting on the thin line between awake and unconscious, and Adam's pulse was a bit fast for McG's liking.

And yet, the stubborn man was still focused on everyone else's wellbeing.

"I'm fine, McG," Adam croaked, an obstinate edge to his voice. McG shot him a glare, his frustration bleeding through—just when he'd finally gotten a handle on it.

"We'll have a medical team on the ground as soon as we land to start you on a transfusion. Then we're heading straight to the hospital to get a cast on that hand," McG explained, lifting Adam's shirt to check on the bruising.

Adam sighed. "Really? The hospital? You're not going to make me stay there, are you?"

"If it's necessary, I will."

Blue eyes moved to McG's, tired and pained. And yet there was something else in the blue. Something vulnerable. Something dark.

"You okay, Top?" McG asked. Adam knew the medic wasn't talking about his physical injuries. There was a unique tone of worry weaved into McG's simple question, speaking of something beyond what was visible.

"I'm fine," Adam replied quickly. Too quickly. The medic didn't buy it, but it was clear Adam didn't want to talk about it. Without a word, the medic removed the IV for the empty bag of saline, bothered that Adam didn't look much better than when the IV went in.

"We're ready to bug out."

McG looked back to see Jaz standing there with her pack slung over her shoulder, and Adam didn't miss the worried shadow in her eyes as she glanced in his direction.

"Think you could help me get Top into the truck?" McG prodded tiredly. She nodded, handing her pack off to Amir as she moved to Adam's side.

The two of them got into position, both looking grim. This was going to be awful, and they both knew it.

McG inhaled through his nose, eyes on Jaz. "Alright, Top. You ready?"

Adam nodded shallowly, closing his eyes.

With a silent dip of McG's head, he and Jaz pulled at the same time. A rough, guttural noise escaped Adam, pushed through clenched teeth, and by the time he was on his feet, he looked nearly gray. He closed his eyes as Jaz and McG moved to support him, and the three of them made their way outside.

Adam was wheezing, stumbling as small noises of pain scraped up his throat. The short walk from the building to the truck drained his meager energy reserves, and Jaz couldn't help the uncomfortable bloom of worry behind her ribs.

They sat Adam on the tailgate of the truck, and both Preach and Amir helped Adam further into the bed, situating him in a corner to give him support on both sides.

McG was at his side in an instant, checking his heartrate and looking him over for any changes. "You good, Top?"

Adam was listing a little, his eyes falling shut as his breathing slowed. "I'm fine," he rasped, his voice fading into a nearly silent whisper.

And just like that, he was out.

McG clenched his teeth, his stare lingering on the bruise creeping up from Adam's cheekbone.

Even at a time like this, Top insisted he was fine.

The medic shook his head in weary concern.

Unbelievable.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Author's Note:_** _Gosh, why are you all so kind and wonderful? Thank you so much for your support and for sticking with this story. I really, really, really appreciate it. Wowie zowie, all your reviews bring an extra bit of happiness to my life. And I'm glad I can share a tale with you all! It's about time I wrap it up, but there will be one more chapter after this one. Thanks, and happy reading!_

 **CHAPTER 5**

Adam didn't even stir on their way to the landing strip. Even with the constant dips of an uneven road, he remained totally unconscious. McG was getting more nervous with every minute, wondering if the saline wasn't enough. If maybe Adam's body was struggling to recover from the blood loss.

McG pressed his fingers against Adam's wrist, feeling the thready thrum of a heartbeat under the skin. He looked up over the cab of the truck, spotting the landing strip ahead. The plane was already prepped and waiting, sitting alone on one end of the strip.

Keeping his hand in Adam's wrist, McG turned to Preach at his side.

"We're going to have to move fast. I don't like his color."

Preach simply nodded, looking ready to spring at any moment.

They were all anxious. And it would only get better when Adam was in capable hands.

The truck drove straight onto the tarmac, drawing up to the plane. As the vehicle came to a rough stop, McG looked at Adam, surprised to see the team leader's eyes opened to slits.

"Top? You with me, Top?"

Adam's expression faintly twisted in confusion, his blue eyes squinting in the sunlight. "Wh'r'm I?"

The muddled haze in Adam's gaze was unsettling. It was so unlike him. McGuire's unease grew, and his worried eyes sought out Preach's. He turned back to Adam.

"We just finished an op, remember? We're on our way home."

Adam closed his eyes, inhaling a shaky breath. "Don' r'member."

Sweet hell, they had to get him home.

"We can talk about it on the plane, but we've got to get you on board," McG replied as he and Preach moved into position. They didn't waste any time, heaving Adam up to haul him to the tailgate. Adam let out a weak cry of pain, generally unable to contribute to his transfer. His adrenaline stores were clearly depleted, and after all the effort and pushing of the last day, he was simply left with bone-deep exhaustion and aching pain.

They just had to make it through the next handful of hours.

Just four more hours.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The flight back to Turkey was quiet, interrupted only by the roar of the plane's engines. Adam wore a permanent grimace, huddled in his seat with a foggy stare. He flinched with every bump of turbulence, shutting his eyes until the pain dulled.

The landing had been hard on all of them. Adam's face went even whiter with the soft drop onto the tarmac, his ribs protesting the very movement. The sudden shift in his color felt like a silent scream, and they could all feel sympathetic aches in their own ribcages.

As soon as the plane had slowed enough, McG was up and out of his seat, checking on their team leader. The medic was somewhat stunned that Adam hadn't already slipped back into unconsciousness, considering everything the blond had been through.

He really was as stubborn as they came.

The plane finally came to a stop, and in a matter of minutes, the hatch was open and a medical team was quickly making their way in. McG moved out of the way, relieved to see a bag of blood in one man's hand as they descended on the disoriented team leader.

The team practically sagged in relief when they saw the IV go in Adam's arm, starting the blood transfusion.

And as Adam was prepared for transport, the team collected their things for a quick trip to the hospital.

There was no way they'd leave his side until he was well on his way to recovery.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was a weird feeling. The world felt heavy and light at the same time, creating the strangest sensation. Adam didn't like it. It felt off. Clumsy. He didn't like feeling clumsy.

Fighting through the thick cloud in his brain, Adam struggled to open his eyes, his lids heavy. He blinked against the blurry, bright image, pressing for clarity. After what felt like eternity, he finally managed to see a bit more clearly, his sights settling on a strangely familiar arrangement of white ceiling tile.

He'd been here before, but when?

Damn, his brain was moving slowly. He frowned, his brows dipping in confusion.

"Top?"

He moved his head sluggishly to his right, blinking against the somewhat fuzzy outline of Joseph McGuire. "McG?" He blinked harder.

The medic grinned. "The one and only."

Preach came into view as he stepped closer to McG's side. "How're feeling, Top?"

Adam swallowed past the sandpaper in his throat. "Fine." The answer was out of his mouth before he could even think about it. Must've been out of habit.

"Bullshit."

Jaz. That sounded like Jaz.

He turned to look at his other side, seeing Jaz and Amir. Jaz wore a humored smirk while the ex-spy looked on with that hide-all expression. Amir raised an eyebrow, the action betraying his neutral mask.

"I'm starting to think you don't know the definition of 'fine,'" Amir mumbled, tilting his head a little.

Adam was coming more to his senses, becoming more and more aware. Hospital. He was in a hospital. That explained why the ceiling tiles were so familiar.

He looked down, eyes catching the bandaging swathed around one arm. His stare flicked to the other arm. His hand was in a heavy cast, the stiff material wandering up the limb, only to stop at another circle of bandaging.

That's right. His left hand was broken. Dammit.

His head fell back to his pillow with exasperation. He wouldn't be cleared for missions for _weeks._

"Doc says you should make a full recovery," McG explained, his posture relaxed but tired. "Might be a long recovery, and you're gonna have to take it easy for a while."

Adam forced a small smile. "Well, at least I'll make a full recovery."

McG dropped a friendly hand on Adam's shoulder. "Silver lining, right?"

The team leader's smile broadened to a weary grin. He was so tired. His eyelids were already growing heavy again. The weird floaty and painless feeling wasn't helping. "What drugs am I on?"

"It doesn't matter," Preach replied, his arms folded. "The mission's over, we're back in Turkey, and you have no reason to refuse painkillers. Just enjoy the ride."

Adam fought back a scoff. Enjoy the ride. Typical Preach advice. But Adam was half surprised the older man hadn't said something like "Move with the universe, and let the universe move through you" or "Time is the master of healing, you just have to let it do its work."

Not that Adam was complaining.

Preach looked the team leader over, noting how much better Adam's color looked. A healthy pigment was quickly returning to the blond's cheeks, marred only by the vivid bruise on his cheekbone. The purple had drifted up around Adam's eye, darkening the delicate tissue. It looked bad, but it would never amount to the sickly paleness of Adam's skin the day before.

The communications specialist looked around at the team, eyes roving over their faces. Their expressions were brighter. More at ease. For the first time in hours and hours, they looked…comfortable.

Preach smiled to himself, listening to Jaz's ruthless teasing. Things were already getting back to normal, a silent celebration of Adam's return to health and awareness.

They made it through. Somehow, they'd made it through.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Preach leaned back in his chair, resting the heels of his boots on the edge of Adam's bed. It was the middle of the night, and Adam was soundly asleep. Barring any random complications, he would be discharged in the morning, but the team was still hesitant to leave him alone. Thinking of the bloody, ragged wounds and the deep bruising, they felt more protective than usual—which wasn't wholly unwarranted.

But after an op, the team needed sleep, so Preach offered to keep watch while they all went back to base for some shuteye. Then at least they could have the peace of mind knowing that Adam was with somebody they trusted. Somebody that could be there if anything happened.

Preach looked around the dimly lit room, his thoughts drifting. It was incredibly quiet. Normally, Preach valued the silence. It was a great time for reflection and meditation. But this time, it felt different. Something else lurked in the shadows, whispering of darker things.

For a minute, Preach wondered if it was his own residual fear from the whole ordeal. If maybe part of him couldn't let go of the terror that'd pervaded his mind from the moment he'd heard Jaz's voice through the comms. But it wasn't that. It was something else.

He heard the soft rustle of fabric and turned to look at Adam, eyes catching the blond's troubled expression as he slept. The team leader was breathing a bit heavier, his body tense.

That's what it was. The nightmares. The thoughts that you just can't shake after something like this. Even when your wounds are stitched and your broken bones are set, there's that feeling you can't bury. An overwhelming darkness that follows you. That haunts your dreams and settles in your thoughts when it's too quiet.

The awful memories of what you've been through.

And it was hanging over Adam.

Preach pulled his feet off the bed and scooted his chair closer, quickly grabbing Adam's good hand in a tight grip. No matter how tough they were—no matter how tough _Adam_ was—they were only human. Humans still hurt. Still struggled to recover from something as harrowing as torture.

Something as traumatic as another human choosing to hurt you for a response.

"Hey, Adam," Preach called, his voice low and even as he gently shook the team leader's shoulder. "Adam, it's just a dream."

The blond startled awake, his blue eyes snapping open. He huffed as his gaze searched the corners and shadows of the room.

"You're safe, Adam. It was just a dream," Preach soothed, careful to keep a calm voice. Adam's breathing began to slow, and his bright eyes continued to smoothly search the room, less frantic than seconds before. When he was satisfied, he looked at Preach.

"Preach?"

The older man nodded, his hand still clasped tightly to Adam's. "You wanna talk about it?"

Adam was quick to shake his head, his brow furrowed. "No. No, I'm fine."

Without missing a beat, Preach shot him a knowing stare. "Come on, Adam. You know me. And admitting a weakness doesn't make you any less of a person."

Adam stared at his lap for several seconds, blinking harshly. He'd always been a quiet sufferer. Everyone on the team was stubborn in their own way. They were so set on being strong and in control that they rejected any notion of weakness and—more often than not—pretended that everything was fine.

But somehow, Adam was better at keeping his pain to himself.

Most likely, the team didn't even know Adam had nightmares. He had them, just like the rest of them, but it was a silent, hidden anguish. After a nightmare, Jaz would wake up and wander out to the kitchen. McG would drift into a corner to recover alone. And Amir would put his rage into a bout of midnight cooking. But Adam…Adam just pretended to go to sleep like nothing happened.

And only Preach noticed.

Sometimes Preach wondered if Adam had seen too much in his life. That maybe he was too well practiced at covering up the hurt and the turmoil. The team leader was always openly concerned with his team, but when it came to himself, nothing fazed him.

And it was difficult thinking about what the younger man had gone through to get to that point.

"Top?"

Adam looked up at him, his eyes hard. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn't come right away. "I…"

Preach waited patiently, never moving his eyes from Adam's.

"In the dream, it wasn't me getting tortured." Adam looked down at his knees, a pained anger biting into his expression.

"It was Jaz."

The bitterness and pain in Adam's voice was hard to listen to, and Preach did his best to keep a strong front. He understood. Somehow, Adam's brain was combining the feelings of failure from Jaz's capture and the fresh memories of his own torture.

And of course, Adam's mind thought of Jaz before himself.

"Hell, Preach. There was nothing I could do. She was alone and in pain, and there was nothing I could do." Adam looked back up at the older man, a softness in his eyes that he reserved for his teammates. "I was only there for a few hours. She was there for more than a day."

Preach quickly realized they weren't talking about the dream anymore.

"She was there for more than a _day_ , Preach. Alone. Most likely not knowing _if_ anyone was coming for her." Adam's stare fell back to his legs, the anger draining away to leave only tired sorrow. "What that must've been like…I can't imagine."

Preach inhaled slowly, trying to arrange his thoughts. He let the silence linger, wary of a hasty response. "But we did come for her." Blue eyes shifted to his. "We came for her, and she knew we did everything we could to get her out of there. And she's _strong_ , Top." Adam kept his eyes on Preach's, his usual strength crumbling a little.

Preach continued, a respectful warmth in his eyes. "And you did do something. You did everything you could until you succeeded. You didn't sleep until we found her, and you listened to that tape a thousand times. Hell, you even shot a guy to get information. If that doesn't make you a damn good C.O. and teammate, then I don't know what does."

The look in Adam's eyes broke Preach a little. He could see Adam continuing to question himself, to believe that he could've done more. But there was a glimmer of something else. Of a true belief that maybe he really did do his best. That he was every bit the man Preach believed him to be.

Adam smiled a little, only a hint of his usual strong demeanor in his face. "Thanks, Preach."

Preach's lips stretched in a warm curve, a faint feeling of worry niggling in the back of his mind.

"Anytime, Top."


	6. Chapter 6

**_Author's Note:_** _And so it ends…Thank you all so much for reading, and thank you for your kind words and reviews. You are wonderful humans, and I really enjoyed writing for all of you. :)_

 **CHAPTER 6**

Jaz wiped the sweat off her forehead, slinging the small towel over her shoulder. It was hot outside, but it had been days since her last run, and she felt like today was as good a chance as any.

Adam had been on base for a few days now, and he couldn't hobble anywhere without somebody hovering over his every move. It was clear how much he hated it. Most of the time, he'd slip away without them knowing, finding some place to be alone until someone tracked him down. It felt like he was avoiding them. Still, they couldn't leave him alone. Honestly, Jaz wouldn't have left if Adam wasn't taking an afternoon nap.

Since he was a sound sleeper, she thought she could go out and get in before he even noticed. Everyone else was out running errands. Really, they all needed to get out for a bit. They were starting to get stir crazy—even Adam.

She approached the front entrance of their building, smoothing wisps of hair out of her face. Adam probably wasn't even awake yet. She'd ran only a few miles.

Careful not to disturb Top, she noiselessly slipped inside their home away from home, stepping silently into the main room. She stopped, frowning when she saw a familiar head of dark blond at the kitchen table. His back was to her with a laptop in front of him, and he looked to be struggling to type with one hand.

Glancing around the area, it became clear that no one else was around, and she wandered soundlessly into the kitchen. Adam let out a heavy sigh, pausing his typing to rest his arm on the table. Ever since he got out of the hospital, he'd been refusing painkillers most of the time, only giving in when the pain was overwhelming. And his only free hand was paired with the three long lacerations from bicep to wrist, making any movement uncomfortable.

Shifting lightly, she peered over his shoulder, seeing the two meager lines of text on the screen.

And her heart sank.

He was writing his report for the mission. The parts when he'd been without an earpiece and camera.

Jaz took a step back, her presence still unnoticed. She watched him for a handful of seconds, taking in the slouch of his shoulders and the pained tension in his one free hand.

And then it hit her. He'd deliberately waited until no one was around to start his report. So they couldn't see. So he could be alone.

That was a hard truth to swallow.

"What're up to, Top?"

He jumped at her voice, turning to look at her. "Dammit, Jaz. Give a guy some warning next time." She could see he was trying to click to a different window, to hide the report.

Jaz pulled out a chair around the corner of the table, dropping into the seat with a pretended casualness. "It's not my fault you let your guard down."

She tried not to stare at the bruise on his face, but it was hard to look away. Part of her wondered if this was what it was like for everyone after her rescue. It explained why they always stared at the fat cut on her lip during those recovering weeks.

"Where did you come from anyway?" he asked, turning the laptop away.

"I just went for a run," she answered. A small smile graced her lips, and she leaned on the table.

Adam shifted, grimacing. "Well, quit sneaking up on me like that."

"Hm," Jaz hummed, eyeing the laptop. "You need help? Looked like you were having some trouble."

"No, I've got it," Adam replied quickly, putting on his best proud scowl.

Jaz stared at him for a while, holding his gaze for at least a whole minute. It was completely quiet, and neither was willing to give up on the impromptu staring contest. Finally, Jaz spoke, breaking the tension. "Top, you only have one good hand, and it has pretty limited mobility."

"I'm good, Jaz. Really, I'm good," he pressed, eager to get her away from what he was doing.

She looked at him again, silent. For a moment, she questioned saying anything at all. She could pretend she hadn't seen the unfinished report. But she had seen it. And really, he shouldn't have to carry his burdens alone. So she wouldn't keep quiet. She just couldn't.

"I know you're writing your report. About what happened in there."

He gaped at her, the seconds ticking by with an anxious hush.

"Jaz, I don't—"

"Let me help."

He looked at her. They stayed still for a moment, Adam frozen while Jaz fearlessly regarded him. After several long seconds, he shook his head, eyes on the floor. "No, Jaz. I don't think—"

"Top, let me help," she demanded, adamant. "At this rate, it's going to take you days to finish it."

"It will not," he countered heatedly. "It's fine. I can do it myself."

"Barely."

They continued to stare, his anger meeting her patient calm. Adam took a deep breath. "Well, where's Preach?"

Jaz felt oddly betrayed by the question. She knew she shouldn't. Preach had known Adam the longest, and he was a pro at coping with the most difficult information. Information like the details of a torture.

"Everyone else went into town to pick up some things," she replied. "It's just me."

He averted his gaze, huffing softly.

"Come on, Top. Let me help you out," she urged.

A few moments of silence ticked by, anxious and pressing.

His eyes met hers, something sad and frightened in the blue. "I don't want you to have to hear about it."

Jaz sighed, her frustration bubbling in her chest. If she had to pick something she hated about Adam, it was this. His insatiable need to keep the team from pain and hurt, no matter what it did to himself.

And dammit, the man could hardly type right now.

"I get it. I do," she breathed, her eyes boring into his. He maintained that hard, strong stare. It wouldn't scare her away. "But you're always there for us when we need it. Let me return the favor for once."

She thought back to when she'd had to write a similar report. Most of the team wasn't around, but Adam was. And he didn't push the truth out of her. He didn't have to. He didn't hold her hand or give her a comforting pep talk. He just sat across the room while she typed, cleaning his gun casually. It was his way of offering her the only support she wanted. The silent encouragement hidden behind a daily routine.

Because Adam always seemed to know what they needed.

She knew that, as her C.O., Adam had to read her report. But he never said anything about it and continued to provide that quiet, covert support.

And for that, she'd forever be grateful.

"Let me help you," she insisted.

He watched her for another minute, wrestling the idea, and then he dropped his head with a sigh. "Fine," he croaked, reluctantly sliding the laptop to her.

Smirking at her victory, she pulled up the report, reading over the couple of measly lines. Her smirk faded into a somber expression, the dull darkness of the situation sinking in. She knew this was going to be difficult, but she was determined to offer her support.

She could do this for Adam.

"Okay, so they caught you at the door," she summarized, trying to smother the discomfort in her tone. "What next?" She looked up at him, watching him as he stared at the floor. He looked so tired just thinking about it. Hell, _she_ felt tired just thinking about it.

And she'd only seen the aftermath.

It took Adam a minute to put his thoughts in order, glancing up at Jaz every now and then.

When he finally spoke, he sounded stiff. Distant. "They…they zip tied my wrists and took me to a storage area. Then one of the guards called his superior. When he came, he dismissed most of the guards and addressed me directly. He recognized me as an American and asked why I was there."

Jaz typed quickly, her heart pounding in her chest. Adam was telling it like a casual story, but she knew this was only the beginning. And just thinking about what was ahead filled her with dread.

"I didn't answer, and I took a hit to the face by a guard. The superior threatened to take further action if I didn't say anything, and I again refused to admit why I was there. When it was clear I wouldn't give him the information he wanted, I was…I was restrained to a chair with zip ties."

Adam paused. Jaz looked up, expecting to see a haunted look in his eyes.

But he was staring straight at her.

"Are you sure you want to be here for this?" His voice was soft. "You don't have to be."

Jaz steeled her expression, pursing her lips. "If I didn't want to be here, Top, I wouldn't have offered."

He kept his eyes on her, his lips parted a bit. Realizing he wasn't going to chase her away anytime soon, he nodded, looking back down at the floor as he shifted in his seat. A wince flash across his features, and he settled into a semi-comfortable position.

"I was…I was restrained, and after I refused to answer his questions, he, uh…he…" He paused again, his brows pushed downward in an inward struggle. "He used a knife on my right forearm." There were a few seconds of silence. "Stab wound. Through and through."

Jaz's typing slowed, and her eyes shifted to look at the band of gauze around his upper forearm. She quickly looked away, focusing again on the screen.

"When I refused to answer his questions, he…retrieved the knife." Jaz knew what that meant. And it made her sick. "He continued to ask the same questions, and when I didn't answer, he…he struck my hand with the handle of the same knife, breaking my hand."

Jaz blinked heavily, trying to keep her attention on the screen in front of her. Adam was doing his best to sound clinical—like he wasn't the one that went through all this. But Jaz could see it all in her mind's eye, and every detail hurt like she was actually there.

"I still refused to talk, so he ordered one of the guards to…physically convince me to confess. I took several hits to the chest…which ultimately broke three of my ribs."

Jaz took a long, deep breath, attempting to soothe the ache in her chest. She wished she couldn't see the details with such painful clarity, but she wasn't a stranger to violence, and she knew too much to feign ignorance.

"Do you need to take a break?"

She looked up, seeing Adam's eyes on hers. Of course he was worried about her. Couldn't the stubborn bastard think about himself for a second?

"I'm fine," she reassured him, faking a comfortable smile.

He frowned. "Because, really, you don't have to do this. I can have Preach do it, or I can just do it myself."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Really, Top. I've got this. Let's just get it done." Jaz looked at the screen, combing over what was already written. "So a subordinate broke your ribs. What next?"

He eyed her, trying to spot the cracks in her brave mask. It didn't matter; she was determined to do this for him. No matter how much it hurt to hear it.

Adam looked down at the floor again. "I still refused to answer, so the commanding officer proceeded to…" He stopped, glancing up at her. She maintained an indifferent expression, reining in her emotions.

Adam continued. "He proceeded to make three long cuts down my other arm. He moved slowly to try and get me to talk, and I still refused."

Hell, she could see it all happen. Every stubborn stare from Adam. Every effort to stay strong.

"At that point, I received another stab wound to the left leg."

Jaz's mind drifted as she typed. A stab wound, sure. With a cruel twist of the blade.

"And then my team came in, eliminated the threats, and moved me from the location."

The words sounded so empty, but she knew it was only for the report. Adam had never been an ungrateful person, yet he had always been extremely careful about showing weakness.

"I think that's about it, right?" Adam asked indifferently. He was clearly eager to move on, his arm wrapped around his aching chest.

Jaz shrugged, hiding behind a casual air. "If you say so."

"Yeah, I think that's good," he muttered, nodding more to himself than to her. She took steps to send the report, submitting it and closing the laptop.

Really, she should accept it as done and move on. But something else possessed her. Something softer. Worry, maybe.

She fought it, simmering in the awkward silence. Adam was staring down at the table, breathing carefully as he readjusted his posture.

"You know, Top," she began, her voice low. "No matter what you say or do, we want to be there for you. If you want to talk about it, we want to listen. And if you don't, we just want to know you're okay."

"I'm okay, Jaz, really."

"Top," she said sharply, stopping him in his tracks. "We know when you're holding back. It's not hard to see that you're avoiding everyone to deal with this yourself. No one can go through something like that and pretend everything is fine. It hurts. It stays with you."

She stopped, glaring at the floor. "Take it from someone who knows."

Adam looked at her, seeing the shadows in her eyes. He wished he could take it away from her. If only he could.

With a sigh, Jaz moved her gaze back to his. "But if you don't want to talk about it, then don't. Just quit trying to deal with it alone. Quit trying to avoid us."

"I'm not—"

"Bullshit. You are."

He snapped his mouth shut, seeing the heat of frustration in her face. He knew she wasn't actually upset with him, but her concern and her hurt often came out in anger.

"Quit telling yourself that you have to do this on your own. Because you shouldn't have to."

Adam knew Jaz wouldn't have said anything if she didn't feel strongly about it. She wasn't often a touchy-feely person, and heart-to-heart conversations weren't normally her preference.

So for her to say something at all…it must've been important to her.

Just by the look on her face, he could tell she was waiting for a response. Some proof that her words had sunk in.

And they had. Adam could already feel the soft pull of guilt in his mind, wondering how much worry and hurt he'd already put his team through. She was right. He had been avoiding them. Because he didn't think his pain should be their pain.

"You know, I…I don't want to talk about it," he confessed candidly. "Because I don't want you all to think about it. I don't want it to be all you see when you look at…at all this." He gestured to the cast on his hand. "And everything I went through in there…honestly, that wasn't even the hard part."

Jaz took a deep breath. Part of her told her to leave it. But she was too far in now. She couldn't just let it be. "What was the hard part?"

Silence.

A sorrowful strain in the atmosphere.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

His voice was hollow. Remorseful.

Jaz didn't move. She couldn't. She knew exactly what he was talking about. And it wasn't his capture.

It was hers.

He was apologizing for something that wasn't entirely in his control.

And that both hurt and enraged her. Because it made no sense. It made absolutely no sense why he was blaming himself for something so ridiculous.

"You can't be serious," she muttered. He was. The somber look on his face said so. "You came for me, Top. You and the guys…you all came for me. And that's all that matters to me. That's all that matters. And it makes all of that shit worth it."

She took a good, long look at him, and it all clicked into place. After being beaten and bloodied, he didn't think about how unbearable it was for him. He thought about how unbearable it was for her.

Hell, she wanted to deck him. Clearly, he had a screw loose in there.

Instead, she just continued talking. "I would never blame you for anything that happened in Tehran. Never. What matters to me is that you got me out of there. You stayed when you should've left, and you found a way to get me out. So quit thinking about what you didn't do, and think about what you _did_ do. Because that's all I'm thinking about."

Adam stared at her, his blue eyes troubled. She could see the cogs turning, like he was considering for a minute that he hadn't failed her like he thought. And then something shifted, and his expression changed. For the first time in days, he looked content. At peace.

Their eyes met, and a gentle gratitude swirled in his eyes. "Thanks, Jaz," he croaked. "I…I think I needed to hear that."

She smirked. "Apparently."

With a curt, humorous hum, he smiled. An imaginary weight slid from his shoulders, and through the tired strain in his face, he looked…happy.

And that's really all Jaz wanted.

There was a shuffle at the entrance of the small building, and they both turned their heads to look. Preach, McG, and Amir were filing in, chatting casually about how to identify a ripe pineapple.

The three of them looked up, stopping their conversation as McG held up a canvas bag of groceries.

"Hope you two are hungry. Amir's making dinner tonight," McG announced, grinning.

Jaz looked at Adam, waiting for his response. His eyes slid to hers, and he smiled, turning back to the others.

"Yeah, I could use a bite."

Jaz couldn't help the small upturn of her lips.

Maybe now, things could get back to normal.

 ** _FIN._**


End file.
